


Heart of the Wolf

by LionArin



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Eventual Werewolf Original Character, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Starts out slow but gets better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:52:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8510593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LionArin/pseuds/LionArin
Summary: *Summary to be added*





	1. Chapter 1

Alyrice woke slowly, a sudden chill running through her. Her body was cold and aching, fingers twitching ever so slightly in the bitter cold. A pain in her head came and went, causing her to let out a soft groan. The environment around her was moving, bouncing and shifting every so often. There was sudden bump that disturbed her upright position; she found herself leaning against something. It was hard, but soft and warm at the same time. Her cheek was pressed against it, right arm following suit.

She opened her eyes, vision blurred. Trees moved slowly by, the sky filled with grey clouds. Blinking a couple times, Alyrice realized she was sitting in a wagon. She tried to remember how she ended up here in the first place. Everything was fuzzy. The wagon was being pulled by a horse, an Imperial at the reins. Her face immediately scrunched up in disgust; she sat up quickly and looked around. Three other men were sitting in the wagon with her. A blond man in brown and blue armor, she noted quickly as a Stormcloak. She had heard about the Stormcloaks and had hoped to meet one, but not under these circumstances. A young man was there as well, dressed similarly to herself. The last man, dark-haired and dressed in cloak and fine clothes, was gagged. She tilted her head slightly, feeling she should recognize him.

A voice to her left spoke up, “Hey, you. You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?” Alyrice stared at the man, nodding. “Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.”

“Damn you, Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell,” the young man looked to Alyrice. “You there. You and me -- we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

Alyrice opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by the Stormcloak, “We are all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.”

“Shut up back there!” the Imperial at the front says loudly.

The thief turned to the man next to Alyrice. “And what’s wrong with him?”

“Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.”

Alyrice and the thief’s eyes widened simultaneously. The thief spoke once more, “Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?”

The blond man looked away, sighing. “I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.”

“No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.”

There was a silence between the three. The sound of the horse clopping along, the creaking of the wagon was heard only. A town came into view, surrounded by spiked, wooden walls. Alyrice reached up to scratch her nose; it proved to be more difficult than she thought with her hands bound. As they got closer, she took surveillance of what she could. From what she could see, this town was fairly small, it would be difficult to escape. She looked at Ulfric, and if he noticed her staring, he showed no sign of it. He stared straight ahead, jaw set, brow furrowed. 

“Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?”

“Why do you care?” the thief replied snarkily. 

“A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.”

“Rorikstead. I’m… I’m from Rorikstead.”

As the wagon in front of theirs entered the town, the hair on Alyrice’s neck stood on end. Something was off, but she couldn’t tell exactly what it was. She looked up to see an Imperial soldier standing on a watch bridge above the gate. 

“General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!” he called out. 

A gray-haired man, Alyrice guessed was the General, split from the group. “Good. Let’s get this over with.”

“Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me,” the thief said hurriedly. 

As they passed General Tullius, whom of which was talking to someone, the Stormcloak spits out, “Look at him, General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this,” he glared at them as they pass. He then shook his head. “This is Helgen,” he speaks up dejectedly. “I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny… when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

The wagon began slowing; Alyrice got a sudden chill through her body. So, this was it. She would die here, far from home. If only things had been different… She heard a small voice ask, “Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?” She closed her eyes, heart aching. 

“You need to go inside, little cub,” a man’s voice said. 

“Why? I want to watch the soldiers.”

“Inside the house. Now.”

Alyrice opened her eyes, now slightly wet with tears. The man at the reins called out for the horse to stop, and they did. Alyrice stared forward to her demise. The chopping block, sitting, just waiting to be used. Her jaw tensed as she cursed under her breath. If she was going to die, it wouldn’t be without a fight. 

The thief spoke up, interrupting her thoughts, “Why are we stopping?”

“Why do you think?” the Stormcloak scoffed slightly. “End of the line. Let’s go. Shouldn’t keep the gods waiting for us,” he stood, the thief, Ulfric, and Alyrice following suit.

“No! Wait! We’re not rebels!”

“Face your death with some courage, thief.”

They jumped out of the wagon, Ulfric first. The thief next. Alyrice looked to the Stormcloak, who nudged his head in the direction of the back signaling for her to go before him. She jumped off, stopping behind Ulfric. The Stormcloak stood next to her, the thief in front of him. 

“You’ve got to tell them! We weren’t with you! This is a mistake!” the thief cried out.

The Imperials in front of them looked at each other for a moment before the captain said, “Step toward the block when we call your name. One at a time!”  
“Empire loves their damn lists,” the Stormcloak remarked.

No one paid him any mind, except Alyrice, who snickered. “Ulfric Stormcloak,” the man next to the captain called out. “Jarl of Windhelm.”

As Ulfric stepped forward, the Stormcloak once again spoke up, “It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!” Ulfric, then, walked slowly to the chopping block.

“Ralof of Riverwood. Lokir of Rorikstead.” They both stepped forward, Ralof following in the path of Ulfric. Lokir, the horse thief, hesitated and stepped back. 

“No, I’m not a rebel! You can’t do this!” Lokir yelled and started running towards the way they had come in. 

The Imperial captain followed his path with her head, yelling, “Halt!”

Lokir kept running, moving at a slower pace than he should have been. “You’re not going to kill me!”

“Archers!” The captain yelled again. An archer behind the Imperials drew his bow, aiming at the horse thief. The distinct sound of an arrow being released and hitting its target made Alyrice wince. She hadn’t seen nor heard the sound of a man dying in a long time. Her plan of escape left her, and she sighed in defeat. So this is where she dies. “Anyone else feel like running?” 

The male Imperial turned his attention to Alyrice and furrowed his brow as he looked at his list. “Wait, you there. Step forward. Who are you?”

“Alyrice Velrine,” she spoke clear and quiet. 

“You from Daggerfall, Breton? Fleeing from some court intrigue?” The comment itself was enough to make Alyrice open her mouth. Before she could say anything, the Imperial turned to the captain. “Captain, what should we do? She’s not on the list.”

“Forget the list,” the captain waved her hand dismissively. “She goes to the block.”

The man nodded. “By your orders, captain,” he turned to Alyrice, eyes looking past her. “I’m sorry. We’ll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock. Follow the captain, prisoner.”

Alyrice’s jaw tensed as she followed the captain to the other prisoners, eyes searching for any way to escape this nightmare. Stopping in the line, she stared at General Tullius; he was circling around Ulfric, looking at him head-to-toe. His lips curled over his teeth as he spoke to the gagged man. “Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne,” he paused as Ulfric let out a muffled grunt in protest to the words spoken. “You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace.”

A noise over the mountaintops sounded. To Alyrice, it sounded like the cry of an animal. What animal, she did not know. She searched her head for a cry like that, yet in all her years of hunting, there was no such noise. “What was that?” the Imperial who had been the nicest to her asked.

“It's nothing,” Tullius dismissed. “Carry on.”

“Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rites,” the captain said, looking to the priestess behind her.

The priestess nodded, stepping forward and spoke, “As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved--”

“For the love of Talos,” a voice to Alyrice’s right spoke up as a Stormcloak moved to the chopping block. “Shut up and let's get this over with.”

Scowling, the priestess stepped back. “As you wish…” 

“Come on. I haven't got all morning,” the captain moved to the Stormcloak, placing her hand on his back. She pushed him to his knees and put her foot on his upper back, pushing him again to put him level with the chopping block. “My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?” he asked. The headsman readied himself, took a quick look to line up his swing, and then took it. The Stormcloak’s head came cleanly off, falling into the box below. His headless body went limp, and the captain pushed it to the side with her foot; the blood pooled quickly on the ground where the head was previously. Alyrice felt his stomach churning at the sight. This was to be how she died? Beheaded and tossed to the side like nothing. 

“You Imperial bastards!” someone yelled. 

“Justice!” yelled another.

“Death to the Stormcloaks!” yet another yelled.

From Alyrice’s left, “As fearless in death as he was in life,” Ralof said.

The captain scanned the line-up in front of her, her eyes landing on Alyrice. She smiled crudely, “Next, the Breton!”

Another cry sounded, the same as before. The Imperial, again, spoke up, “There it is again. Did you hear that?”

“I said, next prisoner!”

“To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy.”

Alyrice shuffled to the block, staring blankly forward. No one took notice of the large, black creature swooping over the mountain, heading straight for the town until Alyrice was on her knees. “What in Oblivion is that?” Tullius asked, surprised. 

“Sentries!” the captain yelled. “What do you see?”

“It’s in the clouds!” a soldier called out. 

As the headsman raised his axe to ultimately end Alyrice’s life, the creature landed on the tower behind him and let out a cry. “Dragon!” someone called out. The dragon lets out another cry, a voice speaking words, that sends the headsman flying. Alyrice flew back from the block, feeling the power in the dragon’s voice. Her vision goes blurry as she tried to move. She laid still, hearing the dragon cry out again. 

“Don’t just stand there, kill that thing! Guards, get the townspeople to safety!” Tullius cried out. The sound of people screaming filled the air followed by another blast from the dragon. Now this was how she would die? Killed by something that had not been around for hundreds of years? She began to stand, becoming dizzy once more and sank to her knees. The town around her blazed orange, heat enveloping everything. Her stomach churned again to the thought of burning to death.

“Hey, Breton. Get up! Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance!” Ralof’s voice called out as he helped her up and ran toward another tower. “This way!” Alyrice followed close, and they entered the tower where others were hiding.


	2. Chapter 2

In the tower were a couple Stormcloaks as well as Ulfric who stood, watching as Alyrice and Ralof came in. Alyrice struggled against her hand bonds, trying to catch her breath in the process. She had little luck and cursed quietly. The least they could do is untie her so she can move freely. 

“Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?” Ralof asked.

Ulfric scoffed, shaking his head. “Legends don’t burn down villages,” he replied as though he was talking to a naive boy. The dragon and a distant explosion could be heard. “We need to move, now!”

“Up through the tower,” Ralof peered out the window, frowning. “Let’s go! This way, friend! Move!” Ralof pushed Alyrice gently toward the stairs. She moved as quick as she could up the stairs, stopping at the sight of the rest being collapsed and a Stormcloak standing there. 

“We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way!” he said.

Suddenly, the rocks from the tower wall came crashing in and crushed the Stormcloak. The dragon had perched itself in the hole it left and blasted fire into it. “Get back!” Ralof yelled, and Alyrice stumbled back, recognizing the words the dragon spoke. ‘Toor shul.’ What it meant, she had no idea. The dragon cried out in rage, pushing off the tower and flying away. Ralof scurried past, looking out of the hole and waved Alyrice. She headed up and stood next to him. Outside the hole, the town was still burning. Houses had already crumbled on their foundations, the wood charred. In front of them, a building on fire and ready to fall. “See the inn on the other side?” Ralof asked, gesturing to it. “Jump through the roof and keep going!”

Alyrice shot him a look, shaking her head. “There's no way I'm jumping that,” she looked to her bound hands, eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, you have no choice here. I have to make sure the Jarl gets out of here safe. Go! We’ll follow you when we can!” Ralof nudged her toward the exit. She sighed and took a few steps back. Judging her distance, Alyrice took a little running start and jumped at the last moment. She hit the floor, rolling and stood stretching her shoulders out. That was something she had not done in awhile. She headed to the hole that was in the floor and dropped down. The floor where she had dropped was burning still; she headed to the closest exit and looked to see if anyone was alive. To her right, there were two people she could see. A man crouching near a burning house and an Imperial calling out to someone, sword readied. 

“Haming, you need to get over here now!” a familiar voice called out. As Alyrice got closer, she saw it was the list-giver from before who was calling out to a boy who hesitantly left a man who was lying on the ground. “Thataboy. You’re doing great! Torolf!” the Imperial yelled as the dragon landed on the man. “Gods… Everyone get back!” The dragon let loose a blast of fire and flew off once more. “Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way,” his voice said, sounding more annoyed than surprised. Not waiting for a response, he continued and turned to the man next to him. “Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense.”

“Gods guide you, Hadvar,” Gunnar replied, pulling the boy closer to his side. 

“Come on, prisoner,” Hadvar turned and began running. Alyrice hesitated before following him. She had realized he was her only way out of here safely and she shouldn't be stubborn. The dragon was swooping in for another attack; Alyrice pushed herself to move faster. Catching up to him, Hadvar glanced back to make sure she was there. “Stay close to the wall!” he hopped down from a wooden platform to get lower, Alyrice following suit. He took her arm, stopping her from running on, and pulled her closer to the wall just as the dragon perched itself on it. It blasted fire again, taking no notice of the fleeing duo right under it, and flew off. Hadvar began to move again, yelling over his shoulder, “Quickly, follow me!”

They made their way up a set of stairs and through a maze of burning walls to an open area where Imperial soldiers stood, shooting at the dragon. The dragon swooped by breathing fire; the soldiers scattered in vain as a few caught on fire. Their screams pierced the air over anything else. Never had it smelled so bad. Someone had cried out, “Tell my family I fought bravely!” That was enough for Alyrice and she turned away to follow where her guide was now going. 

“Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!” General Tullius’ voice yelled out. 

Hadvar nodded and told Alyrice, “It's you and me, prisoner. Stay close!”

As they ran, the shouts of soldiers could be heard. They neared the keep, a familiar face appeared. Ralof. Hadvar stopped in his tracks, spitting out, “Ralof! You damned traitor, out of my way!”

“We're escaping, Hadvar! You're not stopping us this time.”

“Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde.”

Ralof smirked, finally noticing Alyrice and ran past, calling out, “You, come on! Into the keep!”

Ignoring what Ralof had spoken, Hadvar inputted with his own voice as to where she should go before running off to an entrance. “With me, prisoner! Let's go! We need to get inside!”

Alyrice looked between the two of them, already knowing who she's going with. “Sorry, Hadvar. I wish you the best of luck in getting out of here,” she looked to the only Imperial who had been nice to her, then turned to go with Ralof. She hurried into the keep, Ralof slamming the door shut behind them, and paused at the sight of yet another dead body. “Damn,” she murmured. A hand touched her back, then the feeling disappeared and there was a small gasp. Ralof moved past her to the lifeless body on the ground and kneeled next to it, placing a hand on it. 

Bowing his head, he spoke softly, “We’ll meet again in Sovngarde, brother. Looks like we’re the only ones who made it,” he stood, turning to Alyrice. “That was a dragon. No doubt. Just like the children’s stories and the legends. The harbingers of the End Times… We better get moving. Come here, let me see if I can get those bindings off.”  
Alyrice sighed in relief as she stepped forward, and he cut off the ropes holding her hands together. “Finally. Thanks,” she said, rubbing her wrists. 

“May as well take Gunjar’s gear… he won’t be needed it anymore.”

“What? You want me to take from a dead man’s body? That doesn’t seem right, Ralof.”

“This is no time to be arguing, Breton. There’s a dragon out there and we need to leave. Now.” Alyrice’s brow furrowed and she stepped to the body, kneeling. She pulled the boots off first with ease. As she pulled off the armor, it stuck around the head of the deceased. She struggled with pulling it off. Ralof reached around her, giving it a good tug. It came off simply, and he handed it to her. “Alright, get that armor on and give that axe a few swings. I’m going to see if I can find a way out of here,” he headed to a nearby door, and Alyrice slipped out of her rags. She pulled the armor over her head and shimmied into it. It was big on her. In fact, too big for her liking, but she would have to deal. She slipped the boots on, picking up the war axe. “This one’s locked. Let’s see about that gate,” Ralof hurried to the gate on the other side of the room, checking for a way to open it. “Damn. No way to open this from our side.”

“Come on, soldier! Keep moving!” a voice from behind the gate spoke loudly. 

“It's the Imperials! Take cover!” Ralof whispered harshly to Alyrice, signaling for her to stand on one side of the gate. They moved to opposite sides and waited. 

“Get this gate open,” the voice spoke again. On the other side, a chain being pulled was heard and the gate began to lower. Ralof signaled again to Alyrice, telling her it was okay to attack. She nodded, and the gate finished lowering, the Imperials stepping inside. Alyrice looked upon their faces, recognizing one as the captain from outside. Her anger took the better of her, and as the Imperials passed, leaving the duo unnoticed, Alyrice moved quietly and shifted the axe in her hands. As she raised the axe, the captain turned and jumped back in surprise. “You!” 

Ralof had moved in next to Alyrice, his own axe readied. “Imperial dogs!” he yelled, swinging at the soldier in front of him. The captain had pulled out her own sword and took a swing at Alyrice. She raised her axe, blocking the attack, and twisted around, swinging the axe at her foe. The axe hit its mark, a sickening crunch from the captain’s back; she stumbled forward, and Ralof drove a sword through her gut. Alyrice watched the captain fall at her feet and all her rage subsided as quickly as it had come. “Nice work. You’re quite good with that axe. Maybe one of these Imperials has a key. Let’s see here,” he knelt, patting the captain’s body down. He reaches into her pocket, pulling out a key. “Ah, there we are, found it. Let’s see if it opens that door.”

He stood and strode to the locked door, putting the key into it. The lock clicked, and Ralof pushed the door open. “That’s it! Come on, let’s get out of here before the dragon brings the whole tower down on our heads.”

“Right,” Alyrice nodded, following him into a short corridor and down a set of stairs to their left. They hurried down, hearing sounds of the dragon outside, and turned right at the bottom. The duo entered through a doorway to yet another corridor where two figures stood a few yards away. She readied her axe, whether they were friend or foe was to be seen. They took several steps, freezing as the floor beneath them began to shake violently and the roof caved in front of them.

“Look out!” Ralof pulled Alyrice back by her arm into him, more of the roof collapsing as an effect of the initial cave in. He let go of her, stepping back as the rubble settled. “Damn, that dragon doesn’t give up easy.”

Alyrice looked to her left, noticing a door. “This way,” she walked over and pushed it open. Inside was seemingly a storage room, or was; things had been strewn about the room as if discarded. There was no use for them now, and she knew it. 

“Grab everything important and let’s move! The dragon is burning everything to the ground,” a voice snapped.

“Just need to gather more potions,” another voice replied. 

Alyrice entered the room slowly, seeing the men in front of her searching through barrels. More Imperials. Her gut lurched at the sight of them. They hadn’t noticed her or Ralof yet, so they could have the advantage. As she was thinking, her foot kicked a bottle of wine that sent it feet away from her. The Imperials turned on their heels, spotting her. One of them yelled something, drawing his sword and rushed at Alyrice. She stood, waiting as he approached, and channeled something deep within her. The Imperial took his swing at her, missing as she ducked and rolled; she came up, burying her axe in his head. The other who had stood there watching then charged at her in rage, and she stepped past him, letting him run to a waiting Ralof who drove his sword deep into the Imperial’s gut. Both Imperials had fallen, and Alyrice grabbed her axe, wiping off the blood. She looked to Ralof who was looking around. 

“A storeroom,” he remarked. “See if you can find any potions. We’ll need them.”

Alyrice nodded. “Keep watch,” she replied and began looking through the barrels the men had been looking. She found a few potions of red, blue, green and stuck them in her cuirass bag. She then moved over to the shelves where two more potions sat and grabbed those. Her eyes scanned the table behind her, spotting a loaf of bread. It was better than nothing. Grabbing it, she headed over to Ralof, breaking the loaf in half. “Hey, Stormcloak,” she called, and he turned in time to catch the bread being thrown at him. He nodded his thanks, eating the bread quickly. Alyrice did the same, letting out a small noise of gratefulness that she was eating.

“Done?” he asked. She nodded. “Let’s get moving,” they continued on through a door on the other side of the cave in. It led them further down the tower, to a right hand turn where a chamber sat in front of them. “Troll’s blood! It’s a torture room. Hear that?” The sound of a small fray reached their ears as they drew closer. Alyrice could see Stormcloaks fighting an old man in robes and a younger man. The torturer and his assistant, Alyrice guessed. The Stormcloaks took swings at the torturer, dodging attacks from the assistant’s warhammer. Ralof looked to Alyrice, and nodded. They both rushed in, weapons drawn. The torturer took notice of them quickly and raised his hands, shooting sparks from them. Alyrice rolled out of the way, however, not before she felt the effects of the electricity shot at her. The hair raised with the feeling, she groaned in pain. Her vision blurred slightly as she stood, and watched as Ralof paused for a split second before he stabbed the old man in the throat.

He fell at Ralof’s feet, and his assistant faltered, letting his guard down enough for a Stormcloak to bash him over the head with their axe. The assistant crumpled to the floor quickly, blood pouring from the gash in his head. Ralof turned to Alyrice, walking over and placing his hands on her to help steady her. “Are you alright?” he asked, concern coating his voice. As she shook him off, she nodded and coughed. He looked to the Stormcloaks and spoke, “Is Jarl Ulfric with you?”

“No, I haven’t seen him since the dragon attack,” one replied. “We were just heading out to look for him when we stumbled across this room and were attacked. We’re lucky you came along when you did.”

“Yeah,” Ralof said, sounding distracted. “We better move on. Talos be with you.” The Stormcloaks nodded, and moved past Ralof. As soon as they were out of sight, Ralof moved across the room, searching it. Alyrice followed behind him, soon spotting a table that had a dagger, knapsack, and a book titled, The Book of the Dragonborn. She picked up the knapsack, digging through it. It was empty, save for a few lockpicks and a tension wrench, and Alyrice decided to put the dagger in it securely. She relocated the potions from the small bag at her side to the knapsack. “Wait a second. Looks like there’s something in this cage. It’s locked, though… See if you can get it open with some picks,” Ralof suggested. “ We might need that gold once we get out. Other than that, grab anything useful and let’s go. 

“Let me see about this lock,” Alyrice replied, heading to the cage. Inside was a dead man in robes, a potion, some gold, and a book. She pulled out a lockpick and the tension wrench, then began to work at the lock. With careful precision, she moved the lockpick, trying the tension wrench ever so often. Soon she got it and opened the door, stepping inside. She picked up the gold, the book, and potion. She stuck the gold and potion into the knapsack along with the book, then patted down the dead man and found a gold pouch. Alyrice stuck that into the knapsack, and exited the cage continuing on to where Ralof stood. “Let’s go. I’ve got the gold, and some other things.”

“Right,” he responded and began out of the door to a corridor lined with prison cells. They both ignored them, continuing to walk until they reached another torture chamber. “Gods,” Ralof said softly. Alyrice tried not to look as they went through the room. She had already seen so much death today. 

In front of them was a broken wall that led to a cave system. They entered it, moving through cautiously until they heard the sound of voices talking about what they were to do. Ralof had stopped Alyrice in her tracks, but she shook her head and edged forward until she could see into the room. There were four Imperials she could see standing around, armed and alert. She signaled to Ralof what she saw and readied her axe once more. He nodded at her signal, then readied his own weapon. She crouched low, running across the platform before a bridge to the Imperial with his back turned. Before she could strike him, there was a yell to her right. There went another sneak attack. Alyrice stood, burying her axe into the Imperial and pulling it out in time for her to block a sword swing. Ralof came up behind her taking out the Imperial she was against. 

Suddenly, an arrow flew out of nowhere barely missing her. She looked over and saw two archers with another soldier. She made her way over to them quickly, Ralof following close behind. Signaling slightly, she pointed him in the direction of the left archer while she took the right. They took the archers out simultaneously, both turning to kill the last soldier. Alyrice nodded to Ralof, who then took the honor of driving his blade through the Imperial. He then wiped off his blade, Alyrice doing the same. She paused for a brief moment, thinking of all the people she's killed today alone. It wasn't that she'd never killed anything, or anyone for that matter, before, because she had, that she felt unnerved. She hadn't killed anyone in years, in fact… Not since… No. She couldn't bring herself to think it. 

“Come on. This way,” Ralof’s voice interrupted her thoughts. She noticed he had picked up a longbow and some arrows from the dead archers. He had even found another path for them to continue on where he lowered the bridge as she neared and then he continued. She followed after him. “Let's go on ahead. See if the way is clear and where this goes,” they crossed the bridge, and there was a rumbling as the roof caved in behind them. “No going back that way now. We'd better push on. The rest of them will have to find another way out.” Following a short path to a set of stairs, they come across a small stream leading into a bigger cave. They walk along the stream until they hit a dead end and a turn off. “Hmm. That doesn't go anywhere. I guess we better try this way,” Ralof spoke up, moving to the right and through a tunnel. There were remnants of webs on the walls and ceiling that grew thicker as they continued along. They walked into a room thick with web and three spiders making noise at the sudden intruders of their home. 

Alyrice stepped forward, but stopped at the sight of two larger spiders descending from the ceiling above them. The smaller spiders made their way closer to the duo, and Alyrice moved backward in shock. Having never seen such big spiders, she could not bring herself to kill them right away. Ralof quickly dispatched the smaller ones first, taking them out one by one. The bigger spiders made wet clicking noises and advanced on his turned back. Alyrice threw her axe at one of them, hitting it square in the face. The axe buried itself in it, and the spider hissed, its legs curling underneath it as it died. Turning to her, the other spider hissed and spit at her as she realized her mistake, moving out of the way. She was now defenseless with no way around it. Ralof yelled at her, and she looked to him to see him throwing his sword to her. Alyrice caught it, pulling it out of its sheath. Taking advantage of her distraction, the spider jumped toward her. 

She looked to the spider above her and thrust the sword into its abdomen, dragging it forward. The spider fell dead behind her, not before its blood covered the attacker. Alyrice stood there and stared, taking shaky breaths. “I hate those damn things. Too many eyes, you know?” Ralof’s voice said softly as if he was trying to console her.   
Looking at him, she raised her eyebrow. “Too many eyes? How about the fact they’re giant spiders?” The sword in her hand was soon replaced with her axe.  
“We should start moving,” Ralof replied thoughtfully and began walking. “I thought spiders were all over Tamriel. Were there spiders in High Rock?”

“Yes, plenty. Not as big as those. When I was younger, we used to track them down. We’d collect their venom and release them after. It was always small ones.”

“Really? That’s interesting. What did you-- Hold up. There’s a bear just ahead. See her?” he paused as they entered a bigger cave. The trickling of water could be heard, and the air was more stale here. Ralof was pointing further back to a sleeping bear illuminated only by the hint of light from outside. They crept forward, crouching to lessen the noise their steps made. “I’d rather not tangle with her right now. Let’s try to sneak by. Just take it nice and slow, and watch where you step,” Ralof looked to her, cheekily grinning. He took the bow off his back as well as the arrows and handed them to her. “Or if you’re feeling lucky, you can take this bow. Might take her by surprise.”

“Are you sure about this?” Alyrice asked, holding the bow in her hands as if she had been handed a small child.

“Go ahead,” Ralof replied reassuringly. “I’ll follow your lead and watch your back. Whatever you choose to do.”

Alyrice nodded and slung the arrows across her shoulder, then pulled one out. She stood and nocked the arrow, gaining her footing. It had been a long time since she had gone hunting, yet her form was near perfect. She raised the bow, drawing back, and aimed at the bear. She took a deep breath, aiming for the shoulder. The shot would not kill it, but startle it instead. Releasing the arrow, she watched it hit its mark and slung the bow over her shoulder as the bear cried out. The bear stood and let out a roar. Ralof hurried over remarking about Alyrice not being the silent type. He ran his sword through the bear’s throat, and it fell dead. He shot her a look and shook his head. 

“You said whatever I chose,” she glared.

He backed down with a sigh and replied, “Let’s just get out of here. There’s a draft coming from this way,” he gestured left. 

The duo made their way over, meeting at the right hand turn that led closer to the draft. They followed the path until they hit a left turn and saw the light of day in the distance. As they nearer and nearer, the light grew brighter. The smell was fresher, not like stale cave air or burning wood. “That looks like the way out! I knew we’d make it!” Ralof exclaimed, and Alyrice smiled at his excitement barely containing hers. Soon they exited the cave, the sunlight blinding Alyrice. She squinted and raised a hand to shield her eyes. Ralof had gone ahead, stopping at a rock as the dragon’s cry could be heard above them. Alyrice quickly walked over, stopping when her guide out held up an arm. “Wait! There he goes,” he said as the dragon flew by them taking no notice of the survivors. 

“That was terrifying,” Alyrice spoke up after the dragon was clear from view. 

“Yeah… Looks like he's gone for good this time. No way to know if anyone else made it out alive. But this place is going to be swarming with Imperials soon enough. We'd better clear out of here,” Ralof began walking, Alyrice following. He soon stopped and turned to her. “My sister Gerdur runs the mill in Riverwood, just up the road. I'm sure she'd help you out. It's probably best if we split up. Good luck.” 

Alyrice shook her head. “No. We go together or not at all.”

“Stubborn. Aren’t you? Fine then,” Ralof sighed and they continued on their way.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not dead. I promise. To those whom have read my other stories, I apologize for not updating. I've been working on ideas for the one. I will get around to updating it eventually, so bear with me. :)


End file.
